The Firemaid
by Noir2020
Summary: In an attempt to secure peace between the Firenation and the Northern Water Tribe, an arranged betrothal between Prince Zuko and Lady Etsu, Yue's younger sister, is forged. But, to end the war and create peace between all nations, Etsu must accept her place as the Firemaid. A story of self discovery, sacrifice, and—of course—love. Reviews of all sorts will encourage more chapters!
1. Chapter 1

It had been raining for days. The stone staircase that led up the mountain was covered in mud. Not that the stairs would have helped anyway, for the majority of the stones were cracked and disheveled from years, no, decades of neglect. Trees of various shapes and sizes loomed menacingly over the trail, their tops obscuring the trail ahead, and their roots creeping up in-between the stone stairs, waiting for would-be climbers to trip and fall to their death. Though obscured by the dark night, the air was murky and heavy from a mix of mist and smoke. Even if she had a torch, it would not help her now.

_Tonight I will die in steam._

They said an ancient evil ruled this mountain. Those who dared to step foot on the trailhead looming before her never returned. Rumor had it charred bones littered the trail, the trees, and the caves of the mountain. She was glad the dark obscured the grisly scene.

Yet, she felt more exhaustion than fear. She was well acquainted with fear. Blood-soaked battlefields filled her dreams at night. Her bones had been broken by the ever-crushing stone of the Earthbenders. Her blood mixed in ever-rushing, ever-suffocating streams. She dined with generals, hatched schemes with liars, spies, and murderers. Yet, she feared the only thing that could help her in this word, or the other, was the ancient at the top of the mountain.

_Crack!_

The aspen-root had done its work. She sprawled, grateful for the soft patch of mud that caught her and had soaked her face and tattered clothes. Looks were the last thing on her mind. She would die soon, after all. But, what could she say to persuade the ancient to help her before it devoured her? She could think of nothing. Perhaps if she were prettier, the ancient might be beguiled long enough for her to speak.

Slowly rising to her feet, she caught a glimpse of a light: the only light she had seen in hours. Tracing the ground with her feet in an attempt to avoid the devilish roots in the path, she slowly made her way to the torch that marked the end of the path. Waiving the torch around the scene uncovered an eery pavilion. Gone were the cracked, neglected stone: polished and mirror-like, black tile replaced it. The pavilion was shaped like a dock, surrounded by an equally mirror-like lake, which was surrounded by dark pine and the walls of a crater. In the center lay a pedestal of water. A mud soaked, blood soaked, and tear soaked face looked back at her from the reflection in the pedestal. Cupping her hands and making ripples in the pedestal, she made a futile attempt to look presentable. When this failed, she looked up and met strangely familiar golden eyes and a swirl of steam. With unknown grace, she bowed and wept.

_Great Ancient, please save my husband!_


	2. Chapter 2—Stained Glass

Dear ElynFlame,

I love you. I didn't think people would actually read this, let alone review this. So, in honor of your awesomeness, here is the next chapter.

* * *

Yellow. Brown. Red.

The stained glass mosaic in the entry hall, once a tapestry of blues and greens, glowed with a sick reminder of the fire consuming the rest of the city. Besides the crackling of wood as buildings collapsed around the temple and the occasional whisper of a refugee, there was a lull in the hall. The Firenation battalion retired for the night, determined to finish the massacre in the morning. The remaining survivors understood and planned their remaining hours accordingly. Mothers gathered children tightly. Fathers congregated around a small central bonfire to plan their final defense. Death and despair hung heavily in the air.

An impish toddler danced mischievously around the bonfire, flinging her partner—a little rag doll—in the air, completely oblivious to the fate that lay before her. A Waterbender—in the prime of his life and the peak of his bending—saw a flash of the toddler's hair bead in the corner of his eye. Excusing himself from the meeting, he crouched, found his prey, and stealthily advanced toward the toddler. In a fail swoop, he lunged and scooped the toddler in his arms. Squealing with delight, she flung her hands in the air as the Waterbender twirled her around the temple floor. For a moment, the Waterbender wasn't besieged in a temple: he was home.

Scanning the magnificent temple hall, he found his wife in a corner, making camp by a potted palm. Unceremoniously flipping the toddler over his shoulder, he advanced, kissed his wife, and desperately wondered how many more kisses he could steal by the end of the night.

_What are we going to do?_

The Waterbender had always been mesmerized by his wife's eyes. He had never met another waterbender with such ice-colored eyes: her irises were practically white, but for specs of aquamarines and blue topaz. Yet, he had also never met another waterbender with such fiery and emotional eyes. As much as he loved the taste of her lips, he loved gazing into her eyes more, and he frequently got lost in their depths.

_How are we going to save her?_

Her eyes snapped the Waterbender out of his momentary trance. His wife was right: they had to act. They had been entrusted with the beautiful toddler squirming on top of his shoulder, and they, as parents, had failed. She—as the Waterbender, his wife, and everyone else in the temple—would die tomorrow, and her charred bones would be scattered on top of the tile in this beautiful hall. The mental image was too much for either parent to bare.

The Waterbender frantically scanned the room, trying to grasp any idea he could to at least attempt to save the toddler. None came. Disappointed, he looked back at his wife, who looked equally empty of ideas and equally disappointed. As his eyes pondered her black, glossy hair, they focused on the potted palm directly behind her. Behind the plant, he discovered, was a small cubby. The cubby may, he thought, be just big enough to stash the toddler. If the toddler could remain quiet (which was definitely an impossibility), maybe she'd remain undiscovered by the Firenation battalion when they stormed the temple. The Waterbender's focus returned to his wife, who returned his knowing gaze. It was settled. A plan—ridiculous and futile as it was—was made. The Waterbender dropped the toddler and kissed his wife again.

Wrapped in a blanket next to a small, personal campfire, the couple waited until the other families settled in for the night. Only the children would sleep, but all would spend at least an hour with their families. Amends for grievances were offered, forgiveness was freely granted, and all tried desperately to express the love and gratitude they had taken for granted for so many years. The couple struggled to entangle their arms and legs within the insufficient blanket on the hard, tile floor. They missed the carefree hours and privacy of earlier times.

As the night began to fade, the fires began to dim, and a hush settled over the camps in the temple hall. Soon, the men would gather at the door to prepare for their final defense. The couple untangled themselves from each other, and the Waterbender scooped the toddler into his arms. Sensing movement under her blanket, the toddler tossed, half-asleep, and snuggled into the Waterbender's chest. They made a quick approach behind the palm tree and gently placed the toddler into the cubby. She fit perfectly.

"Baby girl, we're going to play a game, ok?" The little girl groaned softly at the sound of the wife's voice.

"Princess, can you listen to Mommy?" The toddler opened her eyes. The Waterbender was always stunned by the toddler eyes. Unlike his wife's, the toddler's eyes were the color of sapphire: deep, dark, and mysterious. While they were just as emotional as the wife's, the toddler's eyes lacked the fire; rather, water ruled the child's eyes.

"I want to tell you the rules of the game, and they're very important, so can you listen to me?" The toddler stared attentively. "We're going to play the quiet game. Soon, there will be a lot of noise, really scary noise. There will be screaming, and shouting, and booms!" The toddler grabbed her rag doll at thought of booms: she was not a fan of booms. "But, the quieter you are, the more points you get. And, if you are quiet the most, you win!" The toddler hugged the doll and smiled: she liked the thought of winning.

With tears in her eyes, the wife bent down and kissed the toddler's forehead. The Waterbender followed. "Always remember that Mommy and Daddy love you."

The couple stood up and covered the cubby with a thick wall of ice. Carefully, the couple etched and scraped the ice to resemble the intricate mural on the wall. The ice would melt eventually, and certainly if the firebenders discovered the fraud. But, there was a chance it would camouflage the toddler during the invasion. Satisfied with the disguise, the Waterbender noticed the others beginning to assemble at the door. He kissed his wife, one last time, and joined the men.

As dawn filtered through the ice, the toddler could hear the screams, the shouts, and the booms the wife had predicted. She saw blurred fire and shadows dance across the tiled walls of the cubby. Tears of fear welled in her eyes, and she hugged her doll. She would not cry, for she was determined to win.


End file.
